


Forever Grateful

by carriedawayfromhome



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 03:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20753249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carriedawayfromhome/pseuds/carriedawayfromhome
Summary: Ashton has always been your number one, but maybe, you’re no longer his.





	Forever Grateful

**Author's Note:**

> Song - Moonlight by Ali Gatie. 
> 
> tumblr.com/carriedawayfromhome

You can feel the tension across your eyebrows as you look at the clock on the wall - _10:34pm. _He was meant to be here four hours ago. Four hours ago he was meant to walk through the door, kick off his shoes, wallet and keys on the counter and throw himself onto the couch. Four hours ago you would have followed his movements and fallen on top of him, letting yourself relax into his embrace. Four hours ago you both would have cooked dinner together, letting the moment of this quaint home life ease over you. Four hours ago you wouldn’t have felt this way - if he had just come home.

Now too many people, four hours on a Thursday night may not be a dealbreaker and that is fair enough, but not when this has been going on for weeks, or was it months? With the late nights also came tired mornings, no warm embraces watching the sun filter through the windows or late breakfasts, no need for a lot of chatter as the morning spoke it’s words for you. With those tired mornings also came empty days.

Once upon a time, Ashton would sneak out of band practice and dash home to give you a quick kiss and embrace (and something more if there was time). He would quickly give you a run down of his morning, slightly out of breath from his jog into the house, he would excitedly tell you about the new chorus he wrote for a song he had fallen in love with or how he had mastered a song on the drums. He relished in the excited look you would show as you listened to him rambling on. You were head over heels for that cheeky man and you would have done anything for him.

_But no, not anymore. _

Those days are far and few in between now. You try to think back to when things started to fade. It probably started with Ashton getting busier and busier at practice and then with the small gigs the band was booking, that meant that he was on the road more often, but it was still long enough to miss him and for him to miss you. You made it work at first, you both did, calling, texting, face-timing. You both left messages when the other was busy, little notes of love and admiration that brought a smile to the face of the person reading it. 

You tried to make it to as many shows as you could in-between shifts at work. You loved watching him up on stage, beating at the drums like his life depended on it. His brown long locks falling into his face from all the sweat. You could see he was at home up there on stage, with his bandmates, with his songs, with his fans. You could see the love and light in his eyes when he looked out over the room, trying to find you in the crowd and those times that he could see you, his smile would widen and he’d wink, letting you know even though there were hundreds of people in this room, he was only thinking of you.

You jump slightly as you hear a key in the lock of the door, your eyes flicker up to the clock once more - _11:07pm._ You push yourself up off the couch, waiting for him to walk through the door.

“Hey you.” You whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, but not too loud as to startle him.

He looks up from where he drops his shoes, “Hey,” a sigh leaves his mouth, “Ah, sorry about being late again, just got caught up, didn’t realise that was the time.”

That tension that was holding onto you before has come back with a vengeance, his usual spiel as always, you never pry, you know he’s busy and he’s doing what he loves, but, aren’t you, also something that he loves? Loved..?

Usually after he apologises, you fix him something quick to eat and you both head to bed, half hearted kiss on the cheek and the cycle repeats itself. But tonight, for some strange reason you feel the need to express your anger, something your mother told you never to do. _“Keep your anger and frustration inside honey, don’t let them see, you don’t want to scare them away.”_

“You’ve been late every night this week Ashton,” You cross your arms as you feel your hands start to shake, “I just don’t understand what keeps you away until eleven every night.”

He looks confused, dumbfounded maybe, is he shocked that you said something? Or that he doesn’t know how to respond? “Love, we’ve got shows coming up in two weeks, and we even booked some more for next month! We’re busier now more than ever, it’s just taking up more of my time, that’s all.” He finishes the sentence with a smile but the tension still remains within you.

“I get that I do, please believe me, but I barely see you anymore.”

“You do see me… right now?” He throws his hands up and smiles wider, he’s trying to make you laugh, trying to ease the tension he now feels, trying to bury this, trying to make you forget.

You feel like crying. All of a sudden every feeling over these last few months bubbles up inside you and you feel like screaming. Those late nights, tired mornings, empty days. You’ve pushed away the memories of you going to bed alone, with tears soaking the pillow, of him never running through the door excitedly anymore, of him ignoring your phone calls and of him finding someone else’s eyes in the crowd and of you realising that you will now come second to his first love.

You curse under your breath as the first tears sting your eyes, “We can’t go on like this Ashton, this can’t be how our relationship is.”

He looks confused, eyebrows furrowing, “What are you talking about? I was late! So what!” He huffs as he throws his arms up, “This is my work! You know that! I need to put my heart and soul into this!”

“Thats exactly it though! You used to put your heart and soul into me! Into this relationship!” You can feel heat prickling at the back of your neck, the anger is getting stronger and the need to throw something is strong, “You know I support you and this band, but if you completely give up on this side of your life, then why am I here?”

He threads his fingers through his hair, a silver band on his finger catches your eye. A gift, from you to him, one year anniversary. You can see him start to sweat, he darts his eyes around the room, trying to avoid yours.

“I don’t know what to say,” His eyes finally find yours a slight glisten to them, “Maybe this band is more important to me.”

All that tension, all those tears, all those memories suddenly are gone. You feel empty. You can tell what he is doing, you know him too well. He’s trying to be strong so that he doesn’t break down in front of you. He’s never been the best at showing his feelings, he always liked to be the leader, the person for people to follow and for him that comes with the territory of keeping the facade of an emotionless person. You can see his lip quiver, you know that inside his head he’s thinking - _don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry._

He’s pushing you away so that you don’t do it first, because if you did, it would break him. He must’ve known this would be coming at some time, maybe he was hoping you would hold on for a little longer? He flipped the coin so quickly so that it seemed as though he has the upper hand here, he’s in control. He’s the one who’s doing the hurting, so that he’s not the one being hurt.

But damn, does this hurt you bad.

You let the sob that you’ve been holding in your throat out, and the tears fall now, “You need to say it to me straight Ash,” You want him to say those words, if he’s the one who wants to hurt, he needs to take that responsibility, “Say it.”

He hasn’t broken yet, but you see his fingernails dig into his arms, his lip quivering. What did he expect though? For you to stick around? For you to hold onto that little ounce of hope that things would work out in the end? That isn’t enough for you. You need more. You needed him.

“What do you want me to say?” He’s holding back as hard as he can, you can see his jaw clenching, a few beads of sweat falling now.

You eye the clock on the wall, _11:26pm. _The urge to throw something is getting stronger.

“You know what to say, if you want this to be over, you say it,”

“Fuck you.”

“I wish,” The mean streak in you is coming out, “You haven’t in months,” _Ouch._

You can see the hurt flicker over his eyes, that was a low dig, you realise that.

He’s hesitating now, why? Why not just come out and the those final words or is because that is the problem, it will be final? You know he doesn’t want to say the words but you also know that this has to end regardless, this is a long time coming. The reason you want him to say those words, is because no matter what, you don’t want to hurt him. You want him to hurt you, because at the end of the day, you always know that you loved him more than he loved you.

Though you can also feel the words on the end of your tongue, you could say it right now, two words, so easy, so quick. But the pain it would cause would be immense. He would get through it, but at what cost? You know what he’s like when it comes to pain. Six months into your relationship his Dad passed away, a Dad that he barely knew, a Dad that at first had left when he was five , sent a birthday card every year, with the words, _“Happy Birthday Son, be _good_, I love you.” _Those card eventually stopped coming. Just before his 19th birthday, he got another card, after years of absence it read, _“Happy Birthday Son, I hope you’ve been good, I would like to see you, I love you.”_

It was a brief, but it was important.

You think about those first few months, he was excited, nervous, anxious to see his Dad after all this time. You recall him relaying his meetings with his Dad to you. The hesitation, the anger and then the acceptance. That all came crashing down when he told you the reason his Dad wanted to see him - cancer. He was dying, end of story. Was it fair? Was it fair that Ashton’s Dad wanted to see him and then let him know it was almost over? Or would it have hurt more If he had never known? That’s a question you’ve thought of a lot, but have yet to find an answer.

The aftermath was bad, messy. Alcohol was the cure. The nights were long. There was never a sober moment, he drank away the pain. There were hospital visits, there were fights, there were scars. You tried so hard to fix him, and to your disbelief you eventually got through, slowly and surely you made sure he was taken care of. You stayed with him through it all. You thought back to when he mentioned he used to play drums when he was younger, you suggested this to him to give him something to take his mind off the pain, so that alcohol wouldn't.

You recall how he loved it, how it made him feel strong, in control. He got in contact with some old friends who also played instruments. They played together, he felt even stronger, they wrote songs, he felt more in control, they started performing, he felt whole.

You gave him what he needed, a push. But now, he’s pushing you away.

“I can’t say it,” He whispers. You’re brought back to reality. To the situation in front of you. He still has control, he’s not faltering, but you can see his body is starting to shake.

You sigh once more, your body feeling heavy on the carpet floor. The tie between you two, the invisible rope keeping you together is feeling tight against your chest. The anger is starting to dissipate and all you feel is overwhelming sadness.

“It’s over.” The words leave your mouth. You didn’t want to. You really didn’t. You held out for as long as you could. You know this will hurt him, this will put another scar on his checkered heart. But it needed to be done, the rope needed to be cut.

You see his facade break, his face crumble and the tears you thought you would never see fall onto his cheeks, his knees buckle and before you know it he’s on the floor, head in his hands. 

For a moment you watch. You watch as the man before you, the man you poured your heart into, break right in front of your eyes. The emotions he always kept hidden in a glass jar are broken into little pieces on the floor. You bend down in front of him, lifting his chin up with your fingers, his eyes are now bloodshot, puffy and red. He looks younger now, no longer his twenty two years of age, now an adolescent, wanting nothing more than to be held.

You hesitate before leaning forward, kissing his forehead, “I’m sorry Ashton,” You want to say another three simple words that used to come so easy to you, but you can’t find it in you.

It doesn’t take long to pack your things, you never kept too much at his apartment, just the necessities. You can hear him in the lounge room, mumbling to himself, trying so hard to keep it together. You hope to god he does do just that - keep it together.With bags in hand, you head for the front door, you’re done, you don’t want to say anymore or feel anymore. You pause though, hand on the door knob, you can feel his presence behind you, you can tell he wants you to say something, something he can hold onto, if just for now.

But you don’t turn around, you walk straight out the door and into the midnight air, the cold wind stings your face as you walk to your car. As you drive out of the driveway you take one last look in your rear vision mirror, you see him standing at the front door, you can’t tell if he’s still crying.

With one deep breath you tear your eyes away from everything you’ve held dear and drive off into the night. 

_Three years later._

Living in the city has been a blast for you, you’re close to work and you love the bustle of the city. You live for the anonymity and the glistening lights from your apartment. Life has been a whirlwind since you moved to the city three years ago, It was a spur of the moment decision, a plan to start a new, a fresh beginning. Packing up all your stuff and moving half way across the country to start a new job and a new life.

You’ve kept yourself busy, new friends, new places, new relationships.

You never even think about that boy that once broke your heart.

You’ve tried not to keep up with Ashton’s life, you tried very hard. But just after the breakup his band got signed to a major label, toured with a few big bands and released a few good (albeit brilliant) albums. He was in the news, he was on all social media and you couldn’t escape it and it definitely hurt at first, seeing his face everywhere. He changed his hair colour, red and now black. You thought he suited it, he looked very gown up.

It isn’t until one evening after work you’re in a taxi, head against the window watching the city whirl past that you hear his voice, on the radio.

“Welcome boys! Luke, Calum, Michael and Ashton to the studio!” The radio announcer yells.

“Thanks for having us man! We’re very excited to be here!” Ashton replies. Your heart halts for a second. It’s weird to hear him talk, you’ve avoided listening to any of the bands songs, let alone radio interviews.

“So fellas, it’s so good to see you, you’ve just come off a world tour and an appearance on the late show last night, how are we feeling?”

“Well to say the least we’re exhausted,” Luke chimes in, “But we’re still working hard, which is why we’re here, because we have a new song out.”

“Yes that’s right boys, a new song, now, tell me about this one, sounds like a sad love song, is that right?”

“Yes that’s right,” Calum answers, “You could say it is about the one that got away.”

You listen intently. Your heart rate beating ever so slightly faster.

“The one that got away? Well, well, well,” The announcer laughs, “I assume all these songs are written about real experiences, so who’s this one about then fellas?”

“This is one actually about my past experience,” Ashton says. Your heart now trying to beat its way through your chest, “It is about a love that I didn’t cherish properly. That I pushed away, that I regret still to this day.” 

You’re grip tightens on your seatbelt across your chest, you feel as though if you didn’t your heart would beat straight out of your body. He can’t be talking about you can he? Must be someone else.

“This person helped me through some of the worst moments in my life, she is actually the one who pushed me to start playing the drums again, she’s the reason I am here talking to you actually.”

Your throat feels tight and the air in the taxi feels hot and stuffy, you wish the driver would turn up the AC.

“Well seems like a very important song then, well we’ve got the studio all set up ready to go, so I’ll let you boys take it away.”

The first strum of the guitar makes your eyes close and you lean back in your seat, letting your head rest against the window.

_Nobody love me like you_

_And I can't love nobody back_

_You remind me of the moon_

_'Cause every night you coming back_

_What am I supposed to do?_

_If I'm so in love with you_

_I cannot get over you_

_I cannot get over you_

_Since you left me every night I go stare at the moon_

_Wishing it was you and I, that's something we would do_

_Every Sunday morning I go watch the flowers bloom_

_I do things we used to do, hoping I'll run into you_

_What's a lie and what's the truth_

_I cannot get over you_

_Doesn't matter what I do_

_Everyone just looks like you_

_Girl, I smell you everywhere_

_Smell your perfume and your hair_

_I try to act like I don't care_

_Everyone knows that I care_

_You the reason I believe that love is real_

_Ain't nobody make me feel, the way you make me feel_

_Darling, tell me is it real?_

_Or was I lying to myself just to make it feel so real?_

You let the breath out that you had been holding in, you feel slightly light headed. It was about you, this song. Ashton wrote this song about you. He let his feelings flow into a song.

The voice of the radio announcer brings you back to reality, “That was absolutely amazing boys! Brilliant!” You can hear faint clapping in the background of the studio.

“Thanks man, we’re very proud of this song,” Michael exclaims.

“You should be, you clearly put your heart and soul into this song.”

“We did, Ashton definitely took the reins and let the words flow and now here we are,” Calum replies, “We’re excited to be putting out songs that actually mean something to us.”

“Clearly, so what about this girl then? The one that got away? Anything to say to her?”

You wait. Anticipate the words that are going to be said through the radio speaker.

You hear Ashton clear his throat, “Yeah, ah, I guess if she’s listening,” You listen to him hesitate, “I want her to know that I am forever grateful for her. That the reason that I am here, inspiring people, doing everything I love with the people I love is because of her. I am so thankful for her.”

You open your eyes now. Your heart rate is back to normal. You don’t register the rest of the interview, none of it matters to you anyway. You can feel a weight that you didn’t even know was there lifted off your shoulders, flying away with the light breeze coming through the taxi window.

Your ride comes to a stop and you hope out. As you’re walking to your apartment you can’t help but smile - _he’s okay_. After everything, he’s okay and he’s happy. Yes you were angry for awhile for him giving up on you, but it was obviously just not meant to be. It was a fleeting moment in your life that you can now look back on and smile.

As you take one last look at the bright city lights around you, you think about how great your life is and how wonderful it was to share a moment with someone like him.

And for that you will be forever grateful.


End file.
